Keeper Of The Blood Red Door Read Count : 85

Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

"It's time," he said.

And I, dressed all in grey, smiled warmly at the man, "Okay."

Where we are going is something I do not know.

For some reason, I do not think to ask, but just go.

The man who spoke is in black and much taller than me.

I am small and my bones as fragile as glass.

He looks almost demonic, with those red eyes...

There's a sad look on his face though, as he leads the way.

His shoulders are slumped over, like he carries heavy burden,

He motions to the door, with his gaint hand, when we come to a stop.

"Go in here." He speaks to me with a broken voice.

The door is red, a ugly red, like people have bled on this door.

I do not wish to burden the man so I smile and nod.

Approach the blood stained door with an outreached hand, 

I lightly touch it, then my skin becomes red.

I pass through the door, and before I disappear I see the man,

Tears streak down his grey face as he looks on with agony.

How could such a gentleman be tasked with this?

I let myself be absorbed with a smile on my face to ease his mind.

This way only one of us is set to die.


The keeper of the blood red door doesn't move an inch as the girl disappears.

He only wants to be done with this job, tired of being the bad guy.

The girl is gone, but her smile haunts him.

He feels to much pain to send another after her,

But the blood red door demands more.

He wonders if the desires will ever stop, will he ever be able to be set free?

Comments

  • Dec 28, 2018

Log Out?

Are you sure you want to log out?